Break the Façade
by Ari-chan89
Summary: Duo's suicidal tendencies are raising suspicions from everyone aboard the Preventers ship, and can't be hidden for much longer. What will happen? And who can mend Duo's broken heart? Shounen-ai in later chapters
1. Chapter One

Hey minna! Sorry it's been so long since I've written. ::ducks from random vegetables and fruit being thrown at her:: I've been just a little But anyways, yeah, I decided to start to write this story. It's been in my mind for a while, so I decided to go through with it.

Warnings: This story gets pretty dark and deep. This is my interpretation of Duo finally starting to deteriorate inside. Sad, yes, I know, but it somehow works. XD But yeah, there'll be swearing, most likely, talks about suicide and attempts at it, and eventually, shounen-ai and possibly slight yaoi; we'll see as things go along. You don't like it, don't read it. XD And if you don't know what shounen-ai or yaoi is, I suggest you go to a site that can help you figure it out.

Disclaimers: Don't own any of the characters, places, things, whatever. Though it'd be cool if I did--I'd definitely want Heero's spandex. XDD But yeah, don't own anything. ::sighs::

OK, I've talked enough. On with the fic!

Break the Façade

By Ari-chan

Chapter One

I sat there, razor in hand, watching the blood flow out of the veins in my slashed wrists, contemplating how long it would be this time before I would wake up out of my suicidal stupor and try to bandage the already scarred flesh surrounding my right hand.

How many times? How many days had I sat on the edge of the toilet seat, locked the door, grabbed my old, rusty blade, and dragged it across my rough skin, that had once been so sensitive before, and now was pretty much used to the almost daily attempts at my own demise?

The crimson liquid dripped slowly out of my wrists, beginning to make a small puddle on the bathroom floor. I stared at it for the longest time, wondering at its color, watching the almost melodic drips fall to the ground. Suddenly I shivered. Why? I had seen blood before, in much larger amounts than this, both in suicide and homicide. Why was it disturbing me so much now?

This fresh thinking seemed to get me out of my trance, because before I knew what I was doing, I quickly grabbed the antiseptic and the gauze to my right on the counter and began to clean the drying blood on the corners of my cuts. It stung slightly, but not as bad as it used to.

I sat up suddenly, which was a bad idea I soon found out, because as soon as I stood up, I felt light-headed and had to sit down again. I put my good hand against my head, and rested the elbow on my knee. Trying to stay awake and fight the growing fatigue, I focused on the mirror image of myself. Long, ill-kept brown hair tied in a messy braid that slung over my shoulder; eyes, violet in color, that had once held joy and happiness now looked gaunt and dead, and the circles under them made my entire eye area look sunken in. My cheekbones were much thinner than they used to be due to the lack of food I hadn't consumed lately.

I sighed, disgusted with how I looked. The nagging voice in the back of my mind--the one that told me to eat more, go to sleep, get some more rest, stop cutting my wrists--was telling me that this was the consequence for my actions. I mentally told it to shut up, when I heard a quiet knock on the door.

"Duo? Is that you in there?" a soft, feminine-like voice filtered in through the doorway.

"Yeah, Quatre, I'm all right. I just felt a little sick, y'know?" I tried to make my voice sound jovial, normal.

Apparently it worked. "Okay then, we need you out here. It's not the same trip with the Preventers without Wufei chasing you around with that katana of his." I heard the blond boy chuckle to himself.

A tiny smile crept across my face. "I know, it's my job to be the entertainer."

I must have sounded a little cynical, because the tone in Quatre's voice instantly changed back to seriousness. "Duo? Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine! Never felt better! I'm coming out right now!" I quickly hid the blood-stained razor behind the toilet, its normal hiding spot, put the gauze back in the drawer, along with the antiseptic, covered the now rust-colored spot on the floor with the light blue bathroom rug, and strode out the door, making sure my right wrist was completely covered.

Quatre eyed me suspiciously. "I'll have you go see Sally, Duo. You've been sick a lot more this trip than the one we took two months ago. Maybe it's a virus?..." His voice trailed off when the hard look I gave him came into effect.

He sighed. "All right, on, everyone's waiting." He caught hold of my wrist, the one that I had sliced open only fifteen minutes ago. I instinctively wriggled out of his grasp.

Quatre turned to me, surprise and hurt in his eyes. But if he noticed anything wrong with my arm, he said nothing about it. He strode on forward down the long hallway, with me behind him trying to send him telepathic apologizes.

After a couple minutes of an awkward silence, we reached the entryway to the planning room. Quatre punched in the code, and as the door slid open he ushered me inside first, following me closely from behind.

The planning room looked the same as usual; brightly-lit with beautiful chandeliers, sterile-white walls, dark tile floors, and the long, black table where everyone was waiting for me to show up. But it wasn't the appearance of the room that was disturbing me; it was the air, the feel in the room. It felt...different. I shivered unconsciously.

The silence inside the room was deafening. Everyone turned to me as I entered, though there were no worried glances, just cold, irritated, unfeeling stares.

Of course I'd been used to this. This was the way they always were. We'd been through so much on and off the battlefield no one had to explain the reasons why.

But now, suddenly, I never wanted to hear that silence again.

"Hey guys! Sorry to keep you waiting," said a voice that sounded like mine, but had none of the pain or hurt inside me laced on it. Some force that I didn't know I had within me got my body to move and take a seat in my normal spot in between Trowa, the man of few words, and Heero, the cold, typically uncaring one. When it came to us, at least. Relena on the other hand...

A voice broke my thoughts suddenly. "Duo? You with us?" Quatre stared at me with confusion and concern mixed into one written on his face, in the process of handing me a paper. Wufei gave me a disgusted look, but some part of him looked concerned. Trowa gave me one of his many blank stares, this one meaning, "What the fuck?..."

And Heero...well, Heero didn't seem to care. The usual; I didn't feel particularly sad about it.

At least, I thought he didn't care; something looked different about him. His blue eyes looked sincerely worried, a look I had hardly ever seen him give. He looked sad, almost puzzled, which made him look incredibly hot, a thought I quickly dismissed with a hint of disgust.

It was then that he said something, something I'll never forget for the rest of my life:

"Duo? Are you all right?"

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. The force of what he said sent me into another sort of stupor. It was like his words were sent by a heavenly messenger, suspended on silver wings addressed to me and to me only, full of kindness and caring that I never dreamed this cold, stone-faced man was capable of. His words were like a sweet honey that a lucky bear came across, but would never find again, and would never find a honey more rich and golden.

And, for the first time in my life, I found myself wanting more of it. More kindness, more innocence, more love, wrapped into one tiny sentence.

And the last thing I remember about that was imagining what it would be like to hold him.

End Chapter One

::coughs:: Was it too deep for you all? Not enough shounen-ai for the fellow fangirls out there? XD I realize it went a little fast, but next chapter I'm gonna try to slow it down a bit. ::sweatdrops:: But, you can let me know how I'm doing by sending me comments and reviews! I live on reviews! They make me feel happy! XD

OK, enough of me babbling. XD See you all in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter Two

Yay! Another chapter in BtF! ;; I don't actually have a lot to say in this space this time ::shock:: but I definitely make up for my lack of speaking here in the chapter. This one took me a long time to do, mainly with what happens between Wufei and Duo. ::coughs:: Not that I'm giving anything away...XD

So yeah. That's about it for this space, except for...

Disclaimers: Don't own any of the G-boys, sadly. ::weep:: Or any objects, scenes, whatever. Basically anything that's been copyrighted, Ari-chan doesn't own. ; The only thing I do own is my plot. If you take it you die. ::hiss:: XDD

Okies, enough of my babbling. ::sweatdrops:: (And I said I didn't have a lot to say?...XDD) On with the fic!

Break the Façade

By Ari-chan

Chapter Two

I felt like I was falling. Falling into a never-ending dark pit of despair, a hole that even I, the renowned Shinigami, could not dig myself out of.

My own conscience was killing me.

Great, I smirked to myself. I've got my own personal guilt trip hole. It's not everyday you find someone who looks completely normal on the outside, but inside, he's screaming for help, from somebody, anybody, to help get him out.

It was then that I heard voices.

--------------

It was faint at first; I could barely catch the words. But they became clearer as I finally started to wake up.

"...shouldn't move him, you don't know what it'll..."

"...like it or not...going to have to...else we can't get help..."

I recognized the people who were talking. It was Quatre, with someone else I couldn't place. They all sounded so familiar, but my mind was still foggy. It could be Trieze's back from the dead, for all I knew.

And then, someone's deep, strong voice broke through the clutter:

"He'll stay here."

My eyelids slowly, ever so slowly, fluttered open to reveal a long, slender neck, with a strong chin. To my right and left were heavily muscled arms and shoulders, tanned and toned from the hours spent testing them to the extreme.

My eyes moved upwards once more, but instead of a jaw, I was staring into beautiful, piercing blue eyes, their color like the bottom of the ocean; a deep, dark Prussian blue like none I'd ever seen. Except for on one man...

It was then I realized that Heero was holding me.

Heero, the cold, unfeeling, maniacal bastard was holding me.

I was lying here, wrapped in his arms, the warmth from his body covering mine like a protective cocoon from the outside world.

And I realized, for the first time in my life, that this was all that I wanted from someone. To feel protected. To be protected. To know that I'm protected on both the outside and the inside.

Quatre brought us both back to our senses. "Duo? Are you OK?" He was instantly at my side, feeling my forehead with the front of his wrist, testing my temperature.

"I...I'm fine," I managed to stutter out, still in shock at being held by the most indifferent, apathetic man alive.

Quatre looked at me, a mixture of curiosity and concern written all over his features. "Are you sure? You look a little red...maybe you're running a fever?--"

"Quatre, stop worrying so much over the onna." Wufei's snappy voice rose over the quieter one's. The blond boy suddenly became silent. "It's obvious he's blushing. The baka probably hasn't ever been held by anyone before, and is relishing the only time he'll ever have." His jet-black eyes, like two pieces of hardened coal, gave me a harsh glare.

That stung. A lot. It felt like someone had just stuck a rather large needle right into and through my heart. Number one, because he had said what was totally the truth, and number two, the way he said it made me just feel like shit.

I remembered this old story they used to tell, back in the old days, about how at one Christmas some kids had gone outside and made a snowman, using coal for eyes, and a carrot for a nose. They gave him a scarf and a stove-top hat, and I think a pipe... Yeah, a corncob pipe. Suddenly, the snowman came to life, and he made the children as happy as could be, dancing with them, eyes sparkling merrily.

There was no merriness in Wufei's eyes. His eyes couldn't hold that. They were already full; malice, hate, rage, and the crave for revenge was all that was left. There was no more room left for happiness in this man, I realized. And I suddenly began to wonder if that's how my eyes looked to other people...no more room for happiness...

But people have a funny way of interrupting your thoughts, don't they? I soon heard Heero talking, no, almost yelling, at Wufei.

"What the hell was that?", I heard him say, his voice a deep rumble in the back of his throat, like a menacing animal. Everyone turned in shock to look at the first Gundam pilot, who was still holding me in his lap.

"You heard what I said, Heero," said Wufei, but the shock of our unofficial leader almost roaring at him was pretty evident in the way he spoke; backing down, but still defiant.

"I don't want to hear you belittling anyone, especially Duo. Understand?" Heero's hands gripped my arms tighter.

I looked up at Heero with bewilderment. Why in hell was he protecting me? Normally he acted like I didn't exist, and now suddenly he was standing up for me? Was he just joking? Was this an inside joke I wasn't aware about? I stole a quick glance at his eyes; they were burning, burning with hatred. I had never seen them so full of emotion before; normally they were blank and empty. His jaw was clenched, waiting for a response from the slightly shaken Chinese boy.

But Wufei said nothing. He merely turned around with a glare at everyone, even Trowa, who hadn't spoken a word this entire time, and stalked out of the room, everyone watching him go.

As soon as the door was slammed shut, Quatre gave a small sigh. "His temper always gets the best of him," he said, more to himself than anyone else. He turned to me, and reached out his hand. "Are you absolutely sure you're OK? You haven't been very well on this trip at all, Duo. I'm becoming worried...--"

But I didn't take his hand. Instead, Heero helped me up, by grabbing me under my arms and lifting me up into a standing position. Quatre looked as surprised as I felt, but still held out his hand, which I then took to steady myself.

"Duo, I would really appreciate it if you went to see Sally in the medical ward. It would do you some good if you could figure out what exactly is making you so ill on this specific trip." Quatre's voice was still soft, but stern. It was best not to argue with him at times like this, so I simply nodded, exasperated.

The blond boy smiled. "Good. Go and see her when you find the time." With that, he left the room, nodding his goodbyes to everyone.

I hate when people do that. They tell you do to something, then they give you a choice, kind of nonchalantly saying, "Oh, go and do this, but you really have a choice as to whether you want to or not." It's an oxymoron, which I hate, because they contradict themselves, plus they're just downright confusing.

Which is probably why I hate myself.

--------------

It hadn't taken long after my fainting fiasco to start to feel suicidal again.

As soon as I had stepped out of the conference room, muttered my thanks to Heero, (with a lot of stuttering on my part) and began to take some baby steps back to my room to lie down, I saw something glimmer down the dimly-lit hallway.

I instinctively reached for my gun with my right hand, which wasn't there. I cursed to myself, remembering that I had left it back on my bed because I figured I wouldn't need it. But, even if I had remembered it, I doubt I would have had the strength to fire a single shot.

So, doing the only thing I could do, I pressed myself up against the adjacent wall, and cried out, "Who's there? Show yourself!"

It didn't take me long to figure out who it was. The fatally-sharp katana in my face was a dead giveaway.

Wufei looked me straight in the eye, making sure my gaze would never leave his. "What have you done so that Heero would suddenly start shielding you?" he hissed in my ear.

He sounded crazy. Crazy enough to kill.

He continued. "Money? Sex? What is it?!" His voice was rising steadily.

"I--I haven't done anything!" I said nervously. Something had seriously pissed Wufei off. "I don't know why! I just--"

"Liar. You've done something. Heero doesn't just protect anyone," he growled, his katana continuously gaining ground on my neck.

He was right, though. Heero just didn't protect every person he came across. Hell, he still doesn't protect us during battle, unless we're about to die. Which was why I was so puzzled, and probably why Wufei was confused and aggravated as well.

I started to try and explain my logic, but Wufei cut me off. "I don't want to hear excuses, you idiot. You're already babied enough as it is around here." He was close to boiling point, which was usually very bad news.

"The poor Shinigami. Such a sad past," he sneered. I could almost taste the resentment in his voice. "Everyone feels sorry for the braided-boy, because his whole life has been horrible. He's had to deal with tragedy after tragedy, but on the outside, he remains cheerful and puts on a happy exterior. What courage, they say, that young man must have inside him."

He was so close to my face now I could feel him breathing on me. I cringed, not used to this much closeness.

Obviously, Wufei was enjoying what he was doing to me, because his frown turned into a self-satisfied smirk. He backed up a little, giving me room to breathe.

"Do you honestly think that you have courage, baka?" He spat out, being as blunt and humiliating as possible. I shut my eyes, ready for the blow.

"No answer, hmm?" He said, synthetic sweetness dripping from his voice. "Well then, let me tell you my opinion." He stood up suddenly, to his full height. I carefully looked up at him, and saw a sight I never want to see ever again.

"I think you are a spineless, brainless, conniving little bastard," he said, face contorted with rage. "You think you can manipulate everyone around here simply because you have the power to, don't you? You think that because you're so goddamn special you can just control everything?!"

He was shouting now. Shouting so loud the whole ship could probably hear. But I doubt anyone cared enough to listen to another minor "lover's quarrel," quote-un-quote.

Wufei continued, never missing a beat. "Let me tell you something, you little bitch, I'm tired of constantly hearing your sob story everywhere I turn. We've all had our problems, bigger than your petty ones, and it's time you start facing yours, like a man, and quit whining like some pretentious brat. Do you understand me?" His glare was strong enough to burn a hole in my clothing. I kept my eyes closed, expecting another blow. But instead of insulting me more, he simply snorted, and with that, he left down the hall, without any further word. Probably to let the weight of his succinct yet heavy words settle in.

And hell, did they settle in.

How could I have been so stupid? Who was I to think that I had problems? Wufei saw his whole country go down right before his eyes; Quatre saw the majority of his family die in his arms; Trowa was taught to fight since pretty much day one, constantly killing; and Heero...Heero had been through so much, there was almost always an unspoken feeling of remorse from everyone for the poor guy.

And me? I simply was an orphan. I hadn't had anyone to hold on to. Except for Professor G, but he wasn't the type to stick around and act like a replacement father, but that's beside the point. Sure, Trowa and Heero were orphans, but they never showed their emotions on their sleeves, like I did.

And that's when I realized why Wufei was angry at me. Because I put all of my emotions out there, it made it easier for people to feel sorry for me. The happy Shinigami with the sad interior. It really was a fake tragedy, and I could see why Wufei was pissed.

I sunk to the floor, the ground as cold as I felt inside. I clenched my fists as tight as I could manage. How could I have been so stupid? I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. How could I have made it so easy for everyone to feel sorry for me, when there were other people here worse off than I was? How could I?

Silently, I got up off the hard tile and, blurry-eyed, made my way towards the bathroom, where my razor was patiently waiting for me, waiting for the blood to begin to slow as every drop of my life source slipped away, waiting for me to close my eyes one last time, waiting for me to just stab myself and end it all, finally, after so much pain and suffering...

Waiting for me to die.

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O.o""" ::sweatdrops:: I promised I'd make it somewhat long! And it got deeper...::sighs:: Poor Duo. I really don't like doing this to him, but he's the most viable one...

::coughs:: But yeah, the plot thickens! XD It looks like Wufei's just a tad bit jealous of all the attention Duo gets...

OK, whoo. ; I hope everyone who reads this likes this chapter, and this story (hopefully...::crosses fingers:: XD) but you can tell me by sending me reviews! Reviews are awesome, and I really take them to heart.

All right, see you all in the next chapter!

Ja ne,

Ari-chan


	3. Chapter Three

::coughs:: Yay! Yet another chapter of BtF! I hope you're enjoying this story so far, everyone who reads this. ::bows:: I try my best, I really do.

Disclaimers: I own my plot. That's it. And the title. (XDD) No more, no less.

Thankies to everyone who's written me a review! I ::heart:: you all! XD

Okies, wow, this one was even shorter than the last one! O.o"" XD Whatever, on with the fic!

Break the Façade

By Ari-chan

Chapter Three

This was all so familiar. The sharp edge of the razor, grazing my skin roughly enough to draw blood; watching, mesmerized, as the thing my body depended on most slipped away from me in one, slow, perpetual motion.

I often wondered, when I wasn't so depressive, how exactly I could just throw it all away like that. My life, I mean. I knew what I was doing; I knew the consequences of losing too much blood (it had happened more times than I would care to count), and I knew what it could do to someone.

So, why did I do it?

Simple, really; you just don't care anymore. You feel like no one cares, like you're completely alone, and for me, guilty. Of everything that you've done in your life; all of the mistakes you've made and how you can't fix them.

That's exactly how I felt right at this very moment. Only problem was, my worst fears were confirmed: It wasn't just that I thought that no one cared.

I knew it.

I knew no one cared for me. They had their own things to worry about. Why the hell should they bother themselves with me and my so-called "problematic" life? And Wufei was right; their lives were so much more worse than mine had been. I had no reason to complain.

So then why did I feel like I wanted someone to hear my story?

Why did I feel like I, yes me, mattered?

It should be the exact opposite, shouldn't it? If you're depressive to the point where you're ready to kill yourself, you should think that you don't matter in this world whatsoever, like you're just some insignificant little insect with no purpose in life.

But not me.

I'm different.

I woke up a little later that evening, probably around six or so. I looked around, and realized that I must have gone back to my room after the latest incident; losing my memory for a couple of minutes after I cut myself isn't out of the ordinary. I turned over in my bed, and got my feet on the cold floor.

First step, check.

I made sure I was balanced enough to walk before I actually started moving, and began the slow trek to the bathroom down the hall.

Opening my door as softly as I could manage, I looked in both directions to make sure no one would see me stagger down the dimly-lit corridor. As soon as the coast was clear, I closed my door as quietly as possible and headed in the direction of my usual hiding spot, praying that no one would see me in the state I was in.

It wasn't until I had made it to the bathroom without incident, locking the door quickly behind me, when I realized that everyone was probably eating supper at this time. Mentally I kicked myself, totally forgetting about dinner, which meant that Quatre would be worrying again, and which also meant that I would have to be quick tonight.

I actually had a humane purpose for coming to the bathroom today, which was doing exactly what it implied; taking a bath. I had been considering it for a couple of days, and I had decided yesterday that today would be the day. Of course I had showered...recently...but I wanted to take a bath; I needed to calm my nerves.

I turned on the faucet for hot water, and pressed the button to keep the water from going down the drain; we still had the old-fashioned kind in our end of the ship. I quickly stripped, trying to avoid looking at the hundreds of scars across my body, especially around my wrists, and slipped into the bath, the hot water enveloping me instantly.

But as I tried to rest in the water's warmth, the marks soon became too conspicuous to ignore. Actually looking at them, really looking at them, was kind of freaking me out; I usually tried not to notice the growing amount of physical war memories.

Tonight, however, they were intriguing me.

Sitting upright, I examined myself; shoulders, arms, chest, legs, feet, all parts of my body that had skin stretched taut across its surface. I saw that for the majority of the part, the scars were huge, long gashes from God knows what battle a few years back; others were minor scratches that I hadn't been able to stop burying my fingers into. The fleshy pink lines would be constant reminders of what horrible things I had done during the past couple years of my life.

All of those people...dead...

I could start to feel the tears coming again. I scrunched up my eyes, and pounded my fist against the side of the tub, letting the sound echo throughout the steam-filled room, attempting to relieve some stress to no avail. An irritated voice inside my head yelled at me, sounding very critical and angry: God damnit, Duo! Can't you just enjoy a bath and relax once in a while?!

The forceful voice inside my head only came out once in a while, when the soft, nagging one just wasn't cutting it. This was one of those times. And unfortunately for me, that voice was usually right.

So I took its advice, for once in my life. I laid back, closed my eyes, and for a couple of minutes enjoyed the steam from the warm water caressing my skin, slowly flowing into my nostrils and through my body, gently warming it.

I let out a deep breath, relaxed my body against the cool porcelain, and for the first time in weeks, I smiled. Truly smiled.

I awoke with a start some minutes later, it seemed like, to hear Quatre's voice on the opposite side of the door.

"Duo? Duo?! Are you OK? Answer me!!" His fist pounded against the door, almost enough to make a good-sized dent in the thick steel.

I half-smiled to myself, forgetting just how strong little feminine Quatre could be, but those thoughts abruptly stopped when more bangings sounded on the other side of the wall. I replied, with as much force as I could, "I'm all right! I just fell asleep in the tub!"

The pounding stopped suddenly, and after a few seconds that seemed to take forever, I could hear a heavy sigh. "Duo, do not scare me like that again, OK? I've been calling your name for a good minute or so; I was about ready to break down the door."

Fat chance with steel, I thought to myself sarcastically, smirking a little. But of course I wouldn't say that aloud. Then again, I don't say many things out loud, do I?

I heaved myself out of the bathtub, unplugging the drain, grabbed the burgundy-colored towels hanging off of the bar on my right, and quickly dried myself off. I wrapped one around my waist, leaving my chest bare, and put one over my head to stop my now loose, wet hair from dripping all over the floor. I grabbed my clothes, and tried to hide my scar-laden wrists under them.

Opening the door, I saw Quatre standing there, hands on his hips, looking a little frustrated. But damn did he look cute. At the sight of me, he looked a bit startled, from what I'm not sure; the layers of scars across my chest? Or just that I didn't have a shirt on? He regained his composure soon enough, though.

"What were you thinking, Duo?! You know falling asleep in a tub is very dangerous!" said the petite blond boy, wagging his index finger in front of my face, which came precariously close to my nose, making me blink spastically. "If you're that tired, you should go to bed earlier!"

It was obvious that Quatre was pretty pissed. I had definitely been acting a lot weirder lately, and I knew such things aggravated him; he hated seeing something he couldn't fix.

But that's exactly why I couldn't tell him about my suicidal tendencies. Quatre couldn't fix my problems; they were pretty much impossible to mend in the time-frame he was used to. You can't just take a person who wants to kill himself and turn him back to "normal," or as normal as we Gundam pilots could get, in a day or two. That just doesn't happen.

So that's why I kept it to myself.

And while Quatre was dragging me by my arm down the hallway back to my room and shouting at me about how odd I had been and how much he was really worried about me, inside I mentally grieved for Quatre, who tried so hard to make impossible things possible, the incorrect correct, and the unfair fair, when all I was doing was hindering his attempts to make everything in this crazy world right.

And deep in my heart, a part of me was weeping, because Quatre just didn't realize how much he was helping me put all the pieces of me back together that had been missing for so long.

After being hauled back to my room by the fourth Gundam pilot and being told that if I didn't go to visit Sally in the next two days that he would personally see to it that I was escorted there and taken care of, I was finally able to drag my ass back to bed for the second time that day. I had declined on going to get some late dinner, saying that I had eaten some leftover food from the night before at around five. Quatre had nodded, believing me, and had left me alone, throwing me skeptical looks on his way out.

It's sad how much people trust me, especially Quatre. I think he knows that I'm hiding a lot of things, but what I like about him is that he doesn't pressure me to tell him all about my personal life. He just tries to make sure that I know that he's there when I'm ready to lay my problems out there for the world to see, which is the best thing I could ask for from a friend right now.

Changing into some clean flannel pants and an oversized white T-shirt that Quatre had quickly obtained for me, I was about ready to climb back into bed to contemplate the meaning of life when I heard voices very close to my door. Loud voices.

I don't like to eavesdrop if it's not a mission, but it definitely seemed a lot more interesting than my previous plans, so, trying to move as carefully as possible, I quietly hopped out of my bed and put my ear to the door to hear the conversation better.

It wasn't too difficult to hear, as both of the people were practically shouting at each other.

"What the hell have you been doing to him, you bastard?" A cold, raging voice boomed, filling up the entire hallway with a feeling of hatred and discord.

"Nothing but what he deserves, Heero," replied another person after a few seconds, whose tone was just as cold.

Heero? What was he?... As softly as I could, I opened my door the tiniest crack to see what was going on.

And man, was it a sight to see.

Through the slit in my doorway, I could see that Heero had Wufei backed up against the wall next to my door, about four or five feet away from the actual door frame to my room. Wufei had the usual glare on his face, but Heero...I'd never seen him give such an icy and hateful gaze before. It was actually kind of frightening to look at; if I were in Wufei's place, I would have cowered instantly under that look. But, Wufei was being the stubborn bastard that he is about something. Again.

"What Duo deserves is kindness and respect from everyone. Including you," said the first Gundam pilot, unblinking, still glaring at Wufei.

The fifth Gundam pilot snorted, raising an eyebrow. "You're one to talk, 'Mr. Personality.'"

It was then that Heero must have finally snapped.

In a flash, Wufei's collar was in the tight grip of "Mr. Personality", the seams almost getting ripped out by the force of his right hand. He had shifted so fast I hadn't even been able to see him move.

I had never before in my life seen Wufei's eyes so big before. They looked like two rather large black marbles instead of the usual two slits of flint.

"Don't you dare say that ever again, you son of a bitch," said Heero, seething, looking like a rabid animal ready to go in for the kill.

Wufei just stood there; he looked paralyzed, rooted to the spot. There was really nothing he could do about it anyways, as Heero's grip was strong enough to strangle him if he really wanted to. Of course Heero wouldn't do that...right?

I watched, mesmerized, as Wufei stared into Heero's eyes for what seemed like forever. Wufei was looking at Heero with eyes full of hurt and anguish, while the blue-eyed pilot was the polar opposite: hatred and coldness mixed together into a giant mass of, if it were a physical attribute, would be along the lines of a poisonous venom. It was quite a sight to see, and if anybody walked by right now, they would probably be thinking, "What the hell?..."

It was then that Wufei spoke; softly, cautiously at first. "I...I thought that at least you'd understand, Heero." His voice slowly gained confidence, building to its normal tone. "You were the most like me: hatred, no kindness, out for revenge." Wufei closed his eyes, giving almost a tiny sigh. "But I guess I was wrong after all."

At that statement it was Heero's turn to look bewildered. He looked back at Wufei, questions running across his features, confusion written all over him like pages out of a book.

It was at this time that realization came over me: I had never been able to read Heero so easily before in my life. Every line, every crinkle on his face gave way to a new expression that before had been so hard to tell but now was so simple to see.

And it was scaring the shit out of me.

Slowly, Heero's grip loosened on the Chinese boy. The white on his knuckles disappeared, and his fingers gradually dropped down, along with his head, looking tired and beat up.

From where I was, I could see Heero's hands really well. They were big, but not oversized. Hard, lean, and muscled, they didn't have as many scars as I would expect on them. At my angle, his hands seemed almost...delicate.

They were perfect hands.

Wufei by now had started to back away, still not quite sure what had come over the normally apathetic, disinterested boy. He kept on watching Heero, hand reaching for his katana just in case. Though I doubt he would have been able to wield it, he looked so shaken.

Heero looked up suddenly. His eyes narrowed as he saw the Chinese boy back away from their little encounter, obviously questioning his courage. He then gave Wufei one of the hardest looks I've ever seen come from anyone, and said something that will stay burned in my memory forever:

"If I ever hear about you harassing Duo, or if I catch you in the act, I will not hesitate to fire this gun and kill you where you stand."

He reached into his navy-blue spandex shorts, and pulled out his gun. He aimed, and fired.

The sound of the bullet being fired ricocheted off of the walls, the sound slowly disappearing over time. I shut my eyes, preparing myself for the worst. When I opened them, I saw Wufei, directly in the middle of the hall, speechless, watching a lock of his own jet-black hair float slowly down to the ground.

It wasn't long after that little escapade when Wufei finally got smart and ran down the hallway, back to his room I'm assuming. I didn't really care.

All that I gave a damn about right now was Heero.

He...he...protected me... was pretty much all that my brain could process at the moment. He would...kill for me. It sounded a little morbid, but who was I to talk? And besides, in Heero's mind, that was a huge compliment.

I could hear my savior let out an enormous sigh. He leaned back against the wall next to my room, closed his eyes, and put his hand to his forehead, grasping his unruly chocolate-brown hair inbetween his fingers. He looked weak, exhausted, fragile.

I didn't know what to say. I wouldn't know what to say. How could I? There was only one word that I could get out:

"Heero..."

The brunette quickly spun around as I carefully opened the door to my room, eyeing him warily, aware that he still held his gun in his hand.

"Du--Duo?" he stuttered, something I'd never heard him do. He dropped the gun more out of surprise than surrender, letting it clatter heavily on the floor.

I stepped lightly out of my room, moving as gently as I could manage, and faced him. His eyes were wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. A mixture of surprise, shock, and confusion were written all over his face.

"Are you OK?" I asked him tentatively. Then I realized that my question was a little stupid, seeing as how Heero was the one who had grabbed Wufei by the collar. I mentally smacked myself for sounding so idiotic.

Heero opened and closed his mouth several times before giving up and nodding yes. He stared at me, this time he the one with the awkward look. I turned my head, not wanting to see his eyes...his beautiful blue eyes...the ones I could feel myself drowning into...

We stood there, him watching me, me noticing every crack, defilement and scratch on the cold, grey-colored cement floor. For a while neither of us said anything, and I was afraid he'd just turn around and leave when he finally whispered something.

"Did you...you did...you saw..." I looked up at him then. He couldn't seem to form the words very well, so I nodded, giving him a tiny boost of courage.

Now that statement sounds ironic.

"You...saw everything, didn't you?" he said quietly, looking off to the side, his face slightly flushed and embarassed-looking. He held his hands together, wringing them, unknowingly cracking his knuckles, overall looking highly distressed.

It was then that I understood why Heero was so flustered; he had just told Wufei that if he caught him toying with me, then he'd kill him. To most people, including me, that would sound a little...overprotective. Like he actually cared about me. And Heero? Caring about someone? An oxymoron in itself.

Not that I would mind.

It was my turn to nod, a little sheepishly, following Heero's example. Once again, silence filled the hallway.

I fidgeted, feeling very uncomfortable. I looked up at Heero every now and then, to see if he'd make a move, but he just stood there, shuffling his feet, looking as troubled as I felt.

I was sick of silence. That was all I had been hearing lately: silence. Silence for the world's problems, silence for other people's problems, silence for my problems. I was tired of getting nothing out of people. I just wanted to hear words, happy words, words of comfort. I wanted someone to do something. I wanted action, movement, help, understanding.

So I spoke up.

"Heero, I..." I stopped midsentence, more out of lack of things to say than to get his attention. But I did get the latter; he looked up at me, anxiety in his eyes.

"I...I just wanted to let you know that...that it's OK if you care about me," I said, a smile unknowingly spreading quickly across my face. I beamed, something I hadn't done in so long at the young brunette, who stared at me, dumbstruck.

A full two minutes passed of Heero looking like he'd just gotten punched in the gut and me grinning like an idiot.

Something felt weird. Really weird. Heero didn't look right; his eyes were glazed over, like he'd just been smacked in the face. He was looking at me, but what he really saw was the air behind me.

I furrowed my brow, confused. Did I say something wrong? I know telling Heero that it was all right that he actually cared about something must be a little odd for the seemingly aloof war machine pilot, but come on...he basically just stated it himself. What was the matter? What was so wrong?...

"Duo, I..." Heero was looking at me, his eyes glistening.

What the hell?...

"Duo, I...I don't care about you. I can't."

My slightly confused half-smile immediately turned upside-down. Was I seeing things? Was I hearing him correctly...?

I obviously must have looked bewildered, because Heero quickly added, "I've got someone else to watch out for." He turned away from me then, looking very interested in the wall all of a sudden.

It felt like someone had just dropped a fifty ton weight over my head. I stared at him in horror, my jaw hung slack. He...didn't care about me?

Then why? Why had he protected me all of this time? Why had he been everything I ever wanted, needed, craved for from anyone? Why had he been my savior, my hope, my confidence, my love?

Was this all a dream?

That must be it; this is all a dream. I'm imagining this. Any minute now, I'll wake up, and see that Heero is still standing in front of me, not walking away like he is in my dream right now, not looking at me with such sad eyes that look regretful and pained, not continuing down the hall at break-neck speed, not making me feel like I'm lost, down, hurt, depressed, suicidal, not making my heart feel like it's breaking in two, not making me just want to end it all right now, at this very second...

And it was right then that I did wake up from my dream.

My dream that Heero loved me.

Awww...::sniffles incredibly loud:: It's so sad!!! WAHHH!!! ::goes and cries in a corner:: I really don't like doing this to poor Duo...T.T""

Well, the chapter's done. Hope you all like the story so far. If you do, please write a review. (Look! I can rhyme! XD) I love reviews; they make me feel like the time I'm spending on this is worthwhile, and that people actually like my story! XD

Okies, my time's up for this chapter. See you all in the next one! ::waves::

Ari-chan


	4. Chapter Four

:dances: Yay! I finally had some inspiration to start writing more of this! XD It took me a while, but I got it! I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. Thankies to everyone who's written me a review, especially Joy2; you made my day, and I :heart: your stories too!

Disclaimers: Don't own anything except my plot. Please don't take it. Really. I like it too much. XD

Okies. This chapter is basically just going to be what goes on in Duo's head when he's suicidal. I'm making it a jumbled mass of words and stuff on purpose, so no worries, I have it that way for a reason. After trying several approaches to this, I decided this would be the best. The other little snippets are what's going on in the physical world, okies? If it gets confusing, just after each little break, stop for about two seconds, then continue on. It starts out in his head, then switches to the physical world, then back and forth.

And on another note, there are some things stated in here that may be controversial to some people. If you don't agree with some of the ideas/comments in here, please don't flame. It's not very nice. o.o" But if you'd like to leave a polite comment about it, by all means, feel free. I actually don't agree with some of the stuff that I have stated either, so it's totally OK if you disagree. ;

All right, I think I've talked enough. Let's start the fic!

Break The Façade

By Ari-chan

Chapter Four

* * *

"Worthless. Completely worthless." 

"A total failure."

"Why do you even bother to live?"

He's right. Why should I live? No one cares. It's about time I just give up and let things go. Then maybe it won't hurt so much.

* * *

All I could see was grey. Grey walls, grey floors, grey ceiling, everything was grey as I ran towards the bathroom, my secret place, my special place.

* * *

All this time I'd been cutting myself, but it wasn't for real. I didn't have the courage to go through with it, to really end it all. But now I do.

Thanks Heero.

You've finally given me something I can use.

* * *

I thought I heard someone call out to me as I was running down the hallway. It didn't matter; I wouldn't be seeing them anytime soon.

* * *

"Who do you think you are?"

"Do you honestly think that you have a purpose in life?"

Who am I? I'm Duo Maxwell, you're friendly neighborhood failure, who's so dependent he can't even kill himself without getting the confidence to do it from someone else. The boy who hides his true nature deep within, the tough guy who wears a mask, puts up shields, and covers up his sighs with a smile.

Do I have a purpose in life?

I think you all can answer that one on your own without help from anyone. Unlike me.

* * *

The bathroom was so close; I was almost there. 

Finally, an end to the constant suffering inside of me.

All of the so-called "comfort" I had receieved the past few weeks were just road-blocks to my final goal.

* * *

I'm done; I'm finished. I'm sorry if you all cared about me, everyone. I just can't take it anymore. 

Call me weak, tell me I'm taking the easy way out, tell me there are better ways to resolve the problem, I don't care. So what if I'm wrong? So what if I'm weak and can't handle myself? This is my choice.

And like it or not, this is how it has to be.

* * *

The lock clicked; probably the last noise that would be audible to me. I closed my eyes, back to the door. 

This is it, Duo Maxwell. This is what you've been waiting your whole life for.

* * *

I'm sorry. Truly I am. I know there are a few people who liked me. I know I had friends. But did they do a goddamn thing? No. Did they try and figure out what was wrong? No. 

Did they try and fix me?

No.

To the others, I'm like a mobile doll. A thing that can move by itself but is still dependent on the owner.

And everyone is getting tired of playing games with their used-to-be-favorite toy.

* * *

Opening my eyes and glancing at the pristine white walls and floors, I could feel my heart racing. Worry? Fear? Anticipation? I couldn't tell. I only had one reason left for being here. 

To grab that razor and slash my wrists. Slash them so much the blood would come pouring out of my veins, with a such God-given speed that I wouldn't have to wait very long before everything would go dark.

* * *

Love? What is that? 

Sure I've heard all about it in fairy tales. The princess is trapped in a high-up tower, weeping for the lonliness she must endure, when suddenly her Prince Charming comes on his magnificent white steed and whisks her away to live happily ever after in lovers bliss.

What kind of a sap would fall for a load of crap like that?

Only the must unintelligent, uneducated, and unrealistic person would believe in that fucked up shit.

Those stories are made for the people in life who will never get any; love, sex, you name it. And who are they written by? Other dumbasses like you, dear reader.

And yet...

* * *

I moved towards the toilet, slowly, but with a purpose-driven speed, completely ready. 

Crawling on my hands and knees towards the darkest part of a normal bathroom, I reached out my hand, feeling for the weapon of my death sentence.

Again, a truly magnificent smile.

* * *

...that's what I want most in this world... 

Some handsome, dashing young man to come to my rescue, save me from the evils of the world, keep me safe and warm.

* * *

Wait...

* * *

Are you listening, my prince? I'm calling for you...

...but you can't hear me...

* * *

What the hell? 

Where is it?...

Groping the back of the toilet, I felt nothing but smooth porcelain running across my heavy, dead fingers, mocking me with its tender touch.

* * *

The public often underestimates the power that suicidal people have. 

Delicate, feeble, fragile, they call us.

Can't handle themselves, they say.

Look at how weak they are! Let's laugh at them and make them a public icon because they're different and make stupid choices! Let's mock them in front of everyone because they're so emotionally distraught, unlike us, the "normal" people, who can handle ourselves and don't lead our lives wondering everyday why exactly we're still here!

But they're wrong.

We do have power, courage, whatever you want to call it.

We have the ability to give our lives away, in the blink of an eye.

Something the general masses will never understand, comprehend, or achieve.

Never.

* * *

I admit. 

I was already feeling pretty low.

But this, this just made me feel lower than low.

Goddamnit! When I finally get the courage to go and kill myself, my fucking razor isn't even fucking there! I scrunched up my eyes, not wanting the tears to fall, willing them to please stop streaming down my face, burning my skin, violating me and my will-power, inch by inch.

I think then it was when I made probably the stupidest, or smartest, mistake of my life.

* * *

You mock me, make fun of me, tell my story and others like me on plasma screens, make me out to be the bad guy and the sinful example of what not to do in your life. 

Do you honestly think that you're going to get away with that?

Just put me on for public display? Tell the world my personal life?

If you do, you either have some serious brain damage, or you're too caught up in your own trip.

Because I'm not going down without a fight.

So, let me turn the tables on you, oh accusative one.

Who do you think _you_ are?

* * *

I think I was just embarassed. 

Yes, embarassed is indeed the word I am looking for.

I was embarassed because I'd told myself, in a way, that this was the best thing I could do, the bravest thing, the smartest thing. Inside I congratulated myself for my brilliance.

And now, now that I had made this trek over here, given myself the power to go ahead and do this intelligent, oh-so-courageous thing, to find that my way out was blocked, it just hit me, smack in the face.

It made me go crazy with sorrow for myself.

* * *

I often asked myself, is this what I really want? 

To just die here on a cold, lonely ship in the middle of space, leaving my friends to fend for themselves in and off the battlefield?

Where would they all be without everyone's favorite happy-go-lucky Shinigami?

And then I realized that I could answer that question for myself:

"Probably in heaven by now."

* * *

I sank to the floor. Literally. 

That's how broken I was at this point.

My confidence was shattered. I couldn't do this anymore.

All the will-power I had was now gone, never to be found again, lost somewhere in the dark chasms of a fiery hell I call my mind. The floor felt warm compared to the deathly cold inside my body.

And then I got angry at myself.

This is typical, just typical of me. Giving up when the first roadblock comes my way. Just because I can't find my fucking razor, doesn't mean I still can't fucking kill myself. I'm fully capable of finding some other sharp object to slash my wrists, or other body parts if need be. I'm not so weak that I'm just going to throw this "once-in-a-lifetime" opportunity out the window into the far reaches of outer space.

I can do this. I can do this.

So, I sat up, quite quickly I might add, and in the process proceeded to hit my head hard enough to give me a concussion on the edge of the toilet seat.

I hoped I had hit my head hard enough so it would kill me.

* * *

But then I thought, "What exactly is 'heaven?'" 

And, "What makes 'heaven' so special?"

* * *

Blacking out gives you the weirdest feeling, you know? 

You feel like you're weightless. Slowly at first, then a feeling kind of like floating comes on, like you're defying gravity. Your body feels weak; it can't sustain itself. You slump against the ground, a dull throbbing pounding the back of your skull, ceaseless, never-ending. Everything looks so bright; it's as if someone has turned their spaceships high-beams on you. The walls, the floor, everything looks white; a sacred white, a white so bright you feel as if you're standing in a state of purity, tainting it black with the dark, horrible sins within your soul that you've kept locked inside of you for all these years.

Yeah. A little bit like that.

* * *

And then I answered for myself. 

"Because...because everyone else would be there. That's why."

* * *

I don't remember seeing much after that. Hitting your head really hard tends to do that to a person, so I don't feel as bad about not recalling every single minute detail. 

I do remember seeing a few things, though.

* * *

Do you think Heero would watch over me if he went to heaven? 

Would he be my guardian angel?

I couldn't ask for a better one. Protective, courageous, brilliant,

Perfect. For the "Perfect Soldier."

But no. He couldn't be with me. He'd be with someone who fits him better; someone who lives in reality and not a fantasy world. Someone who knows where they're going in life and can lead it with no problem.

Someone perfect.

The perfect opposite of me.

* * *

What I did end up seeing was a blur of color. A lot of white. At first I thought I was in heaven, but then I rationalized that I couldn't be as I didn't quite fit the requirements to be an angel. 

I felt a slight wind brush past my face, and a huge mass of blurred colors came in and out of my vision.

Dark colors, colors that contrasted quite a bit with the white background.

It was then that I felt myself being moved. Touches that I could hardly feel were moving me across the floor, dragging my half-dead body across the hard surface of the floor I had come to know so well.

* * *

I don't know why Heero gave me those little bits of comfort, and I probably never will. I don't really care anymore. I'm so tired of all of this, this...sadness, all the time. It's a never-ending cycle of ups and downs. 

It really wears at the body, shows you who you really are inside, opens you up and exposes you.

Oh well. It was nice while it lasted.

Thanks again, Heero.

* * *

The whirling of colors stopped suddenly, as well as the slight feeling of movement. For a brief moment I wondered why, before my mind became clouded again as grogginess turned into a half-sleeping state. 

I could feel myself slipping. I was going to fall asleep.

Oh well. It's what I want, right? It'll be a nice way to die, lying here,

just...drifting...

My head feels like it's moving. What? Why? I can see my own clothes, the ones I put on only a few hours before, the ones that Heero saved me, then rejected me in, all in the matter of a couple of hours.

But how is this possible? Unless someone is holding my head.

* * *

I just want to sleep. Is that too much to ask? To just fall alseep, never wake up again, not having to deal with my life on a daily basis. 

I think it may happen, if I can just close my eyes. Can I do it? C'mon Duo, it's a simple process...

...just let go...

* * *

My eyes feel like they're glued to the spot. I can't move them properly. 

Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to prolong this. I just want to see who's holding my head.

Maybe I can fool myself into thinking it's Heero. That would be nice, wouldn't it?

Isn't that how the fairy tale goes? You die in your lover's arms, surrounded by their warmth.

So I want to see this. Show me it's Heero.

I looked up then, with the last of my quickly dwindling strength.

* * *

That's it, Duo. You've got it. You're almost done-- 

There.

Rest in peace, my friend.

* * *

When I looked up, I saw big, beautiful eyes, filled with tears. Are they for me? 

Hold on a minute...

I know these eyes.

I see them everyday. I feel comforted when I look at them: all-knowing, responsible, understanding, perfect eyes.

You always know what to say. Even without words, your eyes tell me.

And even though you hide them, your emotions are always revealed by them. They are the "windows to your soul," to use the old cliche.

But one thing confuses me about them. The color isn't quite right.

They're green.

* * *

End Chapter Four 

Oh man. This thing took an INCREDIBLY long time to do. :lets out a huge sigh: After surviving the hundreds of computer crashes, this baby is DONE.

I'm sorry this took so long, everyone. And it's not even that long! T.T"" Nearly four months is a long time to wait. But you've all been patient (well, mostly...XD), and for that I thank you.

And another thank you for just _reading_ this story. I know it's not the best out there, and it's probably pretty confusing (especially this chapter..o.o""), but thank you all for taking the time to read it so far. I :heart: everyone of you!

Questions? Comments? Complaints? Suggestions? Leave me a review. I love getting them, as do most people (XD), so if you have something to say, let me know. I'll be glad to answer anything that needs to be answered.

All right, I'm out of here. Again, thanks for reading this, everyone. Until the next chapter:waves:

Ari-chan


	5. Chapter Five

Oh my god. It has been such an incredibly long time since I've written, it's crazy. In fact, it's insane. It's also uncool. Basically, sorry for taking almost a year-ish to continue this story. Thank you for all being the perfect, patient, understanding people that you are.

Disclaimers: Own nothing except my plot. That's it. Zip, natta, zero else besides that.

Now, I'm sure most of you can guess who it was in the last chapter that was the "big shocker." XD However, if you didn't, that's all right, it will definitely be said throughout this chapter multiple times. And hopefully you will all be surprised at some of the things that unfold here... not that I'm giving anything away or anything... :3

All right, enough said. Let's start the fic!

Break the Façade

By Ari-chan

Chapter Five

* * *

I don't understand a lot of the things that happen sometimes. Like why, how, who, when... all of those lovely burning questions that always remain in our minds after some catastrophic event occurs.

But people tend to ask "why" the most of all, right? "Why did this have to happen to him/her?" "Why did it happen now?" Or maybe even, "Why did this happen at all?"

Well, let me tell you, some things just happen for a reason. That's it, end of story. Things happen all the time; a rather rhetorical statement, yes, but it's the truth.

And you can't do a goddamn thing about them.

* * *

Waking up was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life. Not just "one of the hardest" or a "close first" or a "tie for first place," but the freaking hardest thing ever.

Why? First, it hurt like hell. Secondly, why would I want to wake up in the first place, seeing as how falling asleep was my goal for the evening, and thirdly, I didn't want to face the world anymore.

Too much drama and the unfolding aftermath of my attempted demise to deal with.

To put it simply, I'm a frigging wimp. Yeah, I can state it with a straight face, because it's true. I honestly don't mind saying it; everyone knows it, and you know what, most people who can see through that don't give a damn. And those are the people who count the most.

However, looking at the bedside table in Quatre's elaborately furnished and well-kept room told me what my mind was afraid of: that I had already awoken.

I could hear voices in the room. They didn't sound too far away. In fact, they actually sounded really, really close.

Excellent. The firing squad is ready to go, sir.

Maybe they won't notice I'm awake. If I just close my eyes right now, they won't even see that I've--

"Duo! You're awake! Thank the gods!"

Shit.

You know, I really do love Quatre, honestly I do, but sometimes the goody-two-shoes act can really set me off. Especially when I'm having another suicidal day. Or even when I've just woken up.

Well, here's a splendid combo.

I could feel a hand gripping my arm with a mixture of fear and sadness laced through the fingers. I turned my head, not really wanting to but doing it anyways for the sake of having to do it at some point, to see Quatre's face, lined with tears and looking disheveled, sitting on the edge of the bed looking at me.

This was very unlike the prim and proper "would you like some tea, old chap?" guy I usually saw in everyday life. Kind of freaks me out to look back on it now.

The tears running down his face were genuine, however. As soon as he saw me look at him, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. And I was the present.

Where's my wrapping paper? And my bow on the top, Quatre? The decorations and festivities aren't here anymore, and definitely aren't all they're cracked up to be.

"I thought you were surely dead, Duo! You scared me so much when you went running to the bathroom and you didn't respond to me calling out to you..."

He could rattle on forever sometimes. I dealt with it, though, giving an occasional nod or sheepish, embarrassed look when Quatre gave an admonishing comment.

Finally, the "conversation," or more of a one-sided monologue, was stopped, and there was silence all at once. I became uncomfortable again. As I've said before, I hate silence a lot, for reasons you all know.

Speaking wasn't easy. It would mean doing what I didn't want to do anymore. It would also mean giving in to the others' demands. I now realized the only reason Quatre had been talking this much for so long was because he wanted me to try speaking and then hopefully I would spill everything out.

Well, not today, prissy boy. I'm not giving in to your game. Too damn bad.

"Quatre..." I started. As expected, the waiting blond boy leaned in closer, praying that I would finish my sentence.

Start with something simple, Duo. A question, perhaps? How's the weather, is the ship making good time, what did you do tonight so far besides worry your ass off about me?

How's Heero doing? Does he know? How did I get here? Where am I? Who--

"saved me?"

"What?" The confused expression on Quatre's face was enough to tell me that the thoughts in my mind somehow escaped from the chasm of my brain and slipped out of my mouth.

Well, no reason to hide my curiosity now. Besides, Quatre wouldn't give up on those two words until I said something about it explaining the cause of them and why I said them.

Why is it always "why?..."

"Who saved me?" Jesus, those words were hard to get out.

His look of surprise was again, genuine, but there was some sort of expectation, like he knew that this was going to be brought up at some point, lurking in the back of those blue-green orbs.

"How rude of me! I almost forgot you were there! Please come out,

"Trowa."

My eyes widened with shock. It couldn't be! But there he was, standing right there, familiar face and all. One thing was a little off, though. He had the same tear streaks that Quatre had lining his features.

The unfolding scene didn't look quite right. Trowa crying? That never happened. Did I make him cry? ...shit. I hate doing that. And Trowa too! God damnit...

Before I knew it, Quatre was talking again. "... and he just said to me, 'We have to get in there.' So we did, thanks to Trowa unlocking the door. I never knew he could do that! Anwyays, we got in, and Trowa picked you up off the floor, and he sort of held your head in his arms, and you just sort of drifted off..."

The Arabian's retelling of my not-quite suicide was cut short as Trowa slowly walked towards the bed. Incredible balance. He walked with such incredible balance. If there's one thing I remember about him...

It was like he was walking a tightrope. Each step as slow and careful as the first. I didn't mind. One, it made Quatre shut up for five seconds, and two, he was interesting to watch. Much more interesting than blondie here rattling off my own personal tale of woe from his perspective.

As he reached my bed, he did something that made me jump; he took hold of my hand. His cool palms felt welcome compared to my hot sweaty ones.

"Duo... I..." His speaking ability reminded me of my own at the moment. Not that he lacked the capacity, but the conviction.

"... I don't know how it came to this. And I don't think you want to tell me right now. But just know..." he took a huge gulp, "that if you need me for anything, I'm here, and... I love you." The last part sounded a little choked, like he was on the verge of tears again. He looked at me and my widening eyes, blushed furiously and rushed out the door, closing it softly behind him.

* * *

Did I just hear that correctly?

Did he really just say "I love you?"

I've almost never heard anyone say that statement to me. Ever.

I must still be dreaming. Yeah, I'm still asleep. All I see is black! I can't possibly be awake!

Yeah... I'm... sleeping...

* * *

"What you perceive is your reality."

I've heard that statement so many times before I almost want to choke myself. It's irritating to me, nauseating, and annoying.

However, it can be used in many ways.

* * *

Snapping me back to reality was my ever-faithful talker Quatre. Actually, talking was the thing I had least expected him to do. He doesn't seem like the type who would just keep talking in a situation where they're embarrassed. But he did, and for a while wouldn't shut up.

After a while his remarks of "Oh, my!" and "I never knew that!" got a little on the frustrating side, so I decided to ask something that would hopefully make him be quiet for two seconds.

"Quatre... how long have you ...known? About me?"

Dead silence was the first answer I received. Secondly, I got a look of pure shock. Nothing else. I wouldn't even consider it surprise. Just plain shock.

He looked down at his lap for a while. I could sense that he was having trouble wondering how to phrase his answer.

Wow, the ability, or should I say the lack of ability to speak tonight is becoming a fascinating trend.

"Duo... I have known about... this for a long, long time--"

I interjected. "Exactly how long, Quatre?" I wanted to know. I wanted to know how bad a liar I was.

He sighed, looking down at his delicate hands curled together on his lap. "Trowa, I'm not quite sure about. He rarely talks, as you already well know. The others?... again, I can't say for sure. I have a feeling, but I don't want to speak on the other's behalf without being positive."

Only fools are ever positive, Quatre.

His reply didn't really surprise me. It wasn't as if I could make my actions entirely hidden from the outside world. No matter how hard you try to do something, someone else is always going to come along and fuck things up in some way. That's life.

It's how we deal with the mistakes and aftermath that shows what kind of person that we truly are.

"But Duo, let me just say one thing. Trowa told me something very disturbing when we were trying to break down the door... he said he'd found..." he hesitated. I waited expectantly. Finally, Quatre had caught my interest. Was Trowa really that skilled in seeking and finding information? That was mainly Heero's job--

"He said... that there were--or are, I should say... bloodstains. On the floor... underneath the rug."

* * *

Sometimes, you just feel like you want to cry. For any given reason. The tiniest things can set you off. Does everyone feel like that at times? Or is it just another mark of a person who can't get themselves together?

Like myself?

I don't know. Half of the time I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. I say things, I do things without really thinking them through. I wish I could take back some things...

... some things I've said...

I just don't want pain anymore. In any fashion. Is that so hard to see, to understand? ...I'm tired of pain, of hiding things.

But still...

... I still can't tell people what I've done. I'm a true coward. I do horrible things, then I can't own up to them. Why? Why am I like this?

Why?

Why can't I just say what I want to?

Father, please forgive me, for I have sinned...

* * *

I don't think I've ever been more emotionally stable in my life than at that moment.

All I wanted to do was cry. Cry my eyes out. To sit in that heaven of a bed and cry. Confess my sins. Tell my story. Feel the comfort of a soft hand telling me that it's going to be all right, that we can make it better together...

... but I didn't. This burden is not for Quatre. It is never for him, and it never WILL be for him.

He should never have to experience the pain I have. It's not fair for him to have to deal with me and my pitiful excuse for existence.

So, I got myself in control. Sitting in that bed suddenly became what I least wanted to do.

"Quatre? I... want to get out of here." Better to be blunt than take even longer and try in vain to only get a "no" answer.

"Duo, absolutely not." See? What'd I tell you?

"Quatre, I need to get out of here. I can't stand this room any longer. It just feels... too close. And constricting." He raised an incredibly suspicious eyebrow, his eyes dead serious.

"Look, I promise I won't go very far, just to walk around and stretch my legs a bit. OK?"

He sighed. I could tell that he was debating inside his head. I could see it now. "Make him stay and know for certain where he is and what he's doing, or let him go into the vast underworld of this cold, dark ship and not know what in the hell he's doing at all and worry about him every second of every hour until he's back?" Ooh, the debate's killing me.

"Quatre... I promise you. You can trust me on this one." The tone on the last sentence was much softer. Maybe some theatrics would help?...

"All... all right. But I want you back within the next hour! Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Quatre. I understand. It's crystal clear." A little dramatic flair never killed anyone, did it?

"Then go." A small smile crept across his features. It was then that I realized what Quatre had been trying to say all of this time. He gave a sad little sigh, and said, "I can't make you stay forever, can I?"

* * *

I had lied again.

Well, it wasn't entirely a lie. The room was a little conforming.

At least I know that I'm a liar.

But that wasn't why I wanted out. I really wanted to go and find Trowa. As scary as it sounds, I wanted to ask him how he knew, if he did at all? How long had he known? How could he tell? How did he find those bloodstains? Why did he even care? Why did he--

"save me?..."

Once again, the words slipped from my mind, creating a small echo throughout the darkly-lit corridor.

We meet again, old friend.

Just a few short hours ago I had been down this very same hallway, having that lovely conversation with Heero. Just a few short hours ago, he told me he didn't love me and was protecting someone else in my stead. Just a few short hours ago, I tried to kill myself.

What a fucked-up evening. Excuse my generalizing.

But that's not what I need to be thinking about. I realize that I'm going to have to face my fears and probably talk about it at some point tonight, but I need to ask my questions first. I need to have them ready, and just fire them off without warning. That way, he'll answer me.

So, I gathered what little courage I had, being the coward that I am, and set off for Trowa's room.

* * *

I haven't been in Trowa's room very often. Just the usual scope-out of rooms to see who has the better equipment, do you have any soap, and the sometimes frequent searching for some chocolate. Other than that...

...not much. So, new experience. Oh joy.

You know how some places in different areas have a certain feeling, an "aura," if you will, around them? For example, whenever I walk by Quatre's room, I get a calm feeling. Or when I walk by Heero's room, I get a "if you walk by here one more time, Duo Maxwell, I'm going to go out there and fucking blow your head off" vibe.

When I walk by Trowa's room... I get nothing.

Trowa's known for being not-so-friendly to everyone, or trusting, or... anything, really. That's why this whole "emotions" thing is just a tiny bit unsettling.

Reaching for the door handle, my hand trembling oh-so slightly, I turned it just a few degrees to the right, feeling the door give way to reveal the tiniest strip of light on the carpet.

"Trowa?..." I opened the door more, slowly pushing it back until I could view the entirety of the soldiers' room.

The best way to describe Trowa's room would be that it's sort of like a cave, minus all of the drippy noises, intense moisture, rock formations and occasional living creature scurrying about across the cavern floor. It wasn't cold, and it wasn't hot; not dry nor humid, unsettling nor comforting, black nor white... just...

...there. "Gray," if you will.

I whispered again. "Trowa?" I could hear my voice echo just barely across the cheaply-made walls. "Are you in here?"

A figure moved suddenly from the far left of the room over by the window, rising slowly from what appeared to be a bed. The small lamp to the figures' right was quickly overcome as the person moved towards me, face down.

It wasn't until I was face-to-face with him, standing before me shirtless and with his hand on the light switch, that I realized just how close he was to me.

The sharp new light stung my eyes. Jesus, you could've given me some warning, man.

"Sorry if that was a little bright." Trowa squinted at me for a few seconds before opening his green eyes wider. He quickly looked away, but not before I noticed the redness of his eyes and the water collecting in them. "Come on in." The last bit sounded, again, a little choked.

I entered his room, swinging my head from side to side, taking notice of all the things in his room: bed with dark blue sheets, mahogany-type bureau and nightstand, small lamp at the right, chocolate brown plush chair in the back to the left... nothing was out of place.

Immaculately disorganized, though. I could sense that this was just moved around, and stuff was put where it was hesitantly. Nothing was definite in here.

It bothered the hell out of me.

He motioned for me to sit in the chair, but I sat on the bed instead. Chairs in rooms to me serve no purpose other than to make the owner feel more charitable. No pun intended.

As I sat down carefully on his bed, not wanting to disrupt the comforter and his superb ironing job, Trowa, taking the chair, said quietly, still avoiding my gaze, "Can I help you?"

You can't fool me with that false calm tone. I know damn well you're scared.

"Maybe." The word slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it.

Already things are becoming less and less definite.

Trowa looked up at me briefly, resting his forearms on his thighs, his legs spread wide. His green eyes connected with mine for a moment before turning away in what seemed like embarrassment.

"I thought that you'd be..." he stopped. His mouth opened and closed several times, the words not looking like they were coming very easily.

He tried again. "I thought you would be too embarrassed to come here after... after what I said to you." He looked like he was going to cry again.

Christ, it's hard seeing a grown man sob like that.

And then ensued perhaps the most awkward silence of my life.

Again with the silence.

Why is it always silence?

I hate this. I hate this beating around the bush bullshit, this pretending, this lying, this fucked up merry-go-round.

"Trowa, how long have you known?" I spat out, hardly controlling my current frustration.

He held my gaze then, looking like a deer in headlights. You could see where he had cried: the lines on his face ended at just below his cheekbone, so he'd probably been holding his head in his hands when he cried.

He's not used to crying.

And he's afraid of it.

"Longer than Quatre has." Avoiding the question.

"That's not fucking answering my question, Trowa. How long have you known?" I was seething by now, my anger and pent-up emotions rising to the surface again.

"A year and half, almost." He slouched down ever further, his stomach muscles moving in and out, in and out rapidly. Man, he was flexible.

"Perfect. And how exactly did you find out?" I stood up then, pacing around the room, feeling the urge to move somehow.

Trowa swallowed so hard you probably could've heard it ten miles away. "Once... I was done my shower, and forgot my towel on the bar." He rubbed his face a few times before starting again. "I stepped out onto the rug and, because my feet were wet... blood soaked through from the floor to the surface."

I turned to yell something else at him before I realized what this would look like from an outsiders' perspective: one man strutting around the room, bitching at some other guy sitting in a chair with his head in his hands trying so hard to hold back inevitable tears that he's already cried probably five times today, and the other dude just not giving a fuck and ripping into this other guy like he didn't even matter.

Fuck.

Gotta hand it to you, Maxwell, you certainly know how to make other people feel like shit all the time, don't you?

And it's all because of you.

Congratulations, you win the prize for The Most Insensitive Fuck of the Year.

I sat back down again, this time not caring about the sheets.

"Why... why did you save me? In the bathroom, I mean." The last part sounded forced.

Without looking up, and with no hesitation, he answered, "Because I love you."

* * *

Here we go again.

Now this time, I know I didn't hear it wrong.

Does he honestly mean that?

I mean, "love" is such a simple, overused term that implies a lot of different emotions and thoughts and ideas. Love can even mean hatred.

How can someone like Trowa love someone like me? I'm useless, obnoxious, annoying, helpless... I'm not even that attractive.

Maybe I'm just taking this too far. Yeah, that's it. He doesn't mean romantic love, or deep, unconditional love. This is just the "buddy-buddy" type, right?

Right?

* * *

I must have looked like I just saw the most shocking thing in the entire world, because for the next minute or so Trowa sounded exactly like Quatre when he gets going on a tangent.

He wouldn't shut up.

"... I know that this is hard for you to understand, Duo, but you're very important to us. To all of us. To me." I only caught the end of his monologue, but by the sounds of it, it was probably just one of those pep talks you see psychologists give seriously ill patients.

I'm not that psycho yet.

Silence flooded the room once again, leaving me to sit there still dumbfounded by all of this new information and probably making Trowa feel the most uncomfortable he's ever felt in his life, but whatever.

This is all too hard to grasp right now.

"You should probably go before Quatre starts getting worried." He stood up suddenly, moving towards his door. His steps were rapid but looked like they hurt to move in that direction.

"He's not expecting me back for at least another half an hour," I half-shouted, thinking that Trowa believed I had escaped from the Arabians' clutches for a few moments.

He turned back towards me and gave me the tiniest of smiles, the light directly above him throwing shadows across his muscled chest. "Better safe than sorry."

In the state I was in, for some reason I thought it best if I followed orders that seemed more grounded than my own.

I got up then, lightly stepping across the carpet, making my way towards the door and the darkly-lit hallway right outside it. As I reached for the handle, Trowa's hand stopped mine.

I looked up in surprise, not knowing what to do. Is this a touch saying goodbye? Stop now I want to kiss you? Have a safe trip home? I really pity you?

"I think you should have this back." He reached into his back pocket, pulling out a rather familiar looking object and placing it carefully in my shaking hands.

I walked out, cradling it like it was my firstborn son in my hands, caressing its smooth handle and sharp edges with my callused fingertips, unknowingly drawing blood as I nearly swooned in happiness.

* * *

Why Trowa gave me back my razor that day, I'll never know.

Maybe because he felt bad? Maybe because he wanted to see me happy?

I don't know.

But it wasn't exactly the smartest thing to do, Mr. Perfection.

* * *

End Chapter Five

Oh my god, this thing has taken me forever to complete. This chapter was so hard to write. Thank you all for your patience.

You may have noticed that the last few parts of this chapter seem different from the rest, and that's because recently I've taken some writing classes to hone my skills down to a sharp point. I'm not saying I'm God's gift to writing, but I think to some extent I've improved slightly. You tell me what you think.

And while you're doing that... write me a review full of love! I love getting reviews. They're fantastic.

Again, I'm sorry this took so long, but now that I'm back on track, you can expect me to be churning out chapters a lot more frequently. Hooray!

Until the next chapter! Ja, minna!

Ari-chan


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